


ENDS

by shupashta



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ, JYJ - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 13:45:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1430698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shupashta/pseuds/shupashta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead. (James Joyce)</p>
            </blockquote>





	ENDS

There was a bitter taste in his mouth, a metallic savor that he rolled on his tongue as he waited in the cold room. The air was wet and heavy, and it felt like his lungs were pumping dirty water instead of oxygen.

He placed his frozen hand on the window, spreading his fingers to see the yellow outside light between them. His attention was drawn to a lonely figure moving slowly at the end of the path leading to the room.

Then it was gone.

“Jaejoong.”

It was back. The lonely shadow was behind him, whispering in his ear, reminding him his name.

A bigger, warmer hand draped over his, which was still placed on the window. Condensation had formed around his fingers and he studied the shape it left behind when his hand was removed gently and wrapped in warmth.

“Do you remember me?”

The voice was murmuring again, low and warm, too. It felt familiar, and it tugged at his heart, but he was not sure if it was because he did remember, of if it was because he had been so cold while he waited for something he had forgotten.

Just as a gust of wind was shaking the window, hands forced him around, to look at the shadow in the darkness of the room.

“Please, remember me,” the voice implored.

He studied the lips that had been whispering to him, and as he let his eyes roam over the rest of the face to finally meet with small, dark eyes, a thrill of recognition ran through him.

He opened his mouth slightly, ready to say a name, but the metal in his mouth was too heavy and he averted his eyes, confused.

He suddenly remembered that his body was working against him now. Frustration sprang into him and his eyes watered as he tried again to say the name. His lungs, too, refused to function properly and he started panting while is mouth moved against his will, changing and twisting the words he meant to say into unintelligible sounds.

He had not noticed that he had started shivering violently until warm arms wrapped around him, tightening enough so he could feel his pieces gathering back together. His breathing turned from pants to little puffs and the bitter taste faded slightly as a new smell invaded his senses.

Little by little, his mind cleared, as if the new scent could wash away the darkness that had clouded it. He breathed deeply, and the smell was not so new anymore. That scent, he knew he had loved it before, and that even though he forgot it at times, he still loved it now.

The voice was whispering again, and it was bringing back to life other memories, things he never had forgotten but that were still living somewhere inside of him.

He slowly remembered that alongside winter time, everything inside of him was dying. His mind was slowly shrinking on itself, refusing to give hope another chance. It was drying up and eating everything he had known just to live on a little longer.

One day, it would win over him.

And the man hugging him right there would become nothing more than a shadow, forever.

He let out a ragged sigh. He would not let his mind take away those last moments he had, because right now, he could remember. Those last thin threads of his being were still fighting for his life and gathering together, they won over the metallic taste in his mouth, to let him finally whisper his memories.

“Yunho.”

His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I wrote for a writing exercice. Basically, you get the last sentence, which is from some famous author, or whatever quote you like and wanna use, and you have to write a 600 words story, finishing with that sentence. It influences the story you write and how you write it and is supposed to make you think outside of your comfort zone and all. So, obviously, I don't have the style of James Joyce, but I tried my best.


End file.
